Loving Red
by Flint and Feather
Summary: A companion fic/sequel to "Loving Liz". After returning from Moscow, Hellboy and Liz are very sure of what they want. Hellboy and John Myers clear the air about the way things are going to be. Movieverse.
1. Chapter 1 No One Else

**Disclaimer:** Hellboy, Liz Sherman, Abe Sapien and the B.P.R.D. are owned by creator Mike Mignola and Dark Horse Publications for the comics, and by screenwriter Guillermo del Toro, Revolution Studios and Universal Pictures for the feature films. I own nothing, only borrow them to populate my fiction.

* * *

Ten days after their return from Moscow, all surviving B.P.R.D. agents passed a final physical upon completion of a period of quarantine.

John Myers would look banged up for awhile, but he had recovered from the concussion of the pyrokinetic blast unleashed by Liz Sherman in the confines of the hell-hounds' nursery. Tom Manning's scrapes had been inflicted by Hellboy when he elected to save the director by skidding him out of harm's way across sixty feet of paving stones. Hellboy had not contracted infection after being swallowed into the belly of Rasputin's behemoth. The multi-grenade explosion that killed the creature had left him stiff and sore, with a day's worth of headache. Liz Sherman had been temporarily separated from her soul, and after struggling through some nightmares, was very much herself again.

She bathed, dressed and prepared herself with experienced care for a secret arrangement, long awaited...

No other man had ever shown her such all-encompassing devotion, and proven it as no one else could. Possibly, it might have been more difficult for someone as full-ahead tough as Hellboy to speak of his feelings and loyalty to her, just a day before saving her life with a dare that could have sentenced him to the hell-region of his demon father for all time. No one else could ever understand and accept the past bizarre tribulations of her life as he did. And the greatest relief - there was no longer a need to fear the power in herself.

The tortured child and teenager she had been, whom he had always befriended and nurtured, faded further into the background of her psyche. He had made her free to become a whole woman, and that woman, she was about to bring to him.

As she arrived and stood in the doorway of Hellboy's room on that afternoon, he looked upon her for long seconds, enchanted that nothing about her seemed changed. She tossed a small piece of luggage for him to catch.

"Can I come in?" she asked, an eyebrow arched. He strode over, grabbed her hand and pulled her down onto his couch beside him. "Eager!" she whispered, snuggling close and drawing up her legs. "You know what? I've never known you to finish your reports so fast."

"Yeah, I didn't want the suits bugging me," he replied distractedly, slipping lengths of her shiny hair through his fingers while her head leaned on his shoulder. Liz suddenly sat up, noticing one of Red's meal deliveries covering his table.

"And I've never known you not to have finished all of that off by now!"

"It's gonna hold us for awhile – don'cha think?" he grinned.

"Oh, your analytical mind!"

"That reminds me," he cut in, "one more thing." He sent out a page. "Myers! Nobody comes in here – nobody! Not until I say. Not even for the end of the world." And he secured the door for which Myers carried the key.

"Um, got it, Red," John Myers answered to the transmission, puzzled by the forceful demand. "But you'll starve!" Deciding to stroll down to the kitchen to cancel Hellboy's orders, Myers waited for an explanatory message that never came. He thought of passing some of the afternoon by maybe...visiting Liz. But she was not to be found. Restless, Myers dropped into the library to consult Abe Sapien.

"I've looked in the usual common areas," he told the merman, "She's just not anywhere."

"Everyone must be somewhere," Abe answered with maddening simple logic, "and as you can see, Liz is not here." A confidant of the couple, he was privy to their plan, and quite gladdened by it. He would politely run interference and help in any way.

...

"This couch is way too small," Liz hinted, dropping Red's shirt to the floor, on top of her own.

"Your wish, my lady-" It was time to get comfortable. In his arms, she was no more than the weight of a butterfly, as he carried her with a careful shuffle to his steps. All cats reclining in his path, cleared the way. He set her down on her feet, tantalizingly close to his bed. Feeling that Red would not take the role of aggressor, Liz slipped an arm around his waist to caress the muscled expanse of his back, while the fingertips of her free hand softly traced his temple. Red closed his eyes, savouring the sensations. Her touch, gliding over his angular cheekbone and creeping lower along his sideburn to the line of his jaw, aroused a shiver through his mighty physique. His hands lightly drew her closer as her fingers played teasingly over his lips. However Liz prolonged her temptations, he considered every moment to be a precious gift. He surrendered himself to the spell winding around them, feeling the rush of his heartbeat quickened by the press of her soft cheek to his breast. Entwining her fingers with his, she backed herself onto the bed, drawing him with her. Intoxicated by her smouldering gaze, he lay back while she crept over him.

Liz levered her body up higher against him, seeking his small pointed ear where she breathed warmly, "Lover, I missed you."

The lonely pain of his past drained out of him as his hand cupped the back of her head, bringing her lips to his. Separated from her upon returning home to the Bureau, he let the memory of their first kiss drive his hunger. She returned it now as passionately, and having full command of her fire, withheld it from their vulnerable surroundings. It was the mark of the first time they would lie together and become complete lovers. They seized on each other with the ardor of having much time to make up. In between the deep looks, deeper kisses, and intimate caresses, all of their clothing was tossed to the floor.

Their strong physical attraction had a life of its own. It played uncomfortably in Hellboy's thoughts at the worst possible time. He had never been with a woman as slender and fine-framed as he found Liz to be. The comparison with his own three hundred and fifty pound hard-muscled bulk would not be chased away. He kept his rough stone arm far away from her tender, bare skin – was constantly mindful not to let his weight rest heavily over her. Liz certainly sensed that her intended had, without explanation, either stalled or gone into reverse. Intuiting the cause for his hesitation, she got up and knelt, straddling his sides.

"Red, everything you're doing makes me really happy, **but** -" she took his face between her hands and stared hypnotically into his eyes, "you're treating me like a glass doll! I won't break." As he lay seriously taking in her every word, she lowered her hands to his pectorals, then trailed down, down his torso. "You're being so slow, gentle and careful, you're driving me crazy!" Her voice melted into hushed tones. "Now, make love to me."

All his dreams, through his feisty woman, were being laid at the doorstep of his heart. Receiving his instructions in plain and desirous terms, he found no need to speak. He tumbled her to her back. She saw the trepidation in the set of his mouth as he leaned above her, his flesh hand beneath her back, drawing her to feel his burgeoning heat.

"I'm not afraid," she encouraged, her eyes invitingly seductive.

Still, he concentrated to temper down his great strength to fit the delicate endeavor. A necessary cautious approach carried its own profound satisfaction for the lovers. They spoke softly and fondly, with unbroken gaze, drank in each other's sighs as they rocked together, joining ever closer. She delighted in being so claimed and filled by him. Hellboy knew that this was his life's truest lovemaking. Liz collapsed back with gasping little cries, and clutched at his arms as he cleaved deeply into her, again and again. When she smiled dreamily and grasped his hips, bracing to match his rhythm, she set off electrified surges in him, visceral snarls through clenched teeth, that made her glow and rejoice. When he had recovered, shaken off the reverie, he needed to know, "Babe, are you all right?" In a softly awed tone, he whispered, "I went out of my mind!"

She pulled him down beside her. Sinking to his pillow, he took her hand to his lips, and waited. She stroked a finger across his cheek, beaming her satisfaction, "Red, what did you do to me?"

Blushes were never evident on Hellboy, but he drew her on top of him, and took her compliment with a modest smile and long, warm embrace. Then raising her up, he said mysteriously, "What I should be doing now, is feeding you."

"Chili, pizza, nachos, pancakes, bacon?" Liz recited by heart, a list of the available dishes.

"Nope! The best stuff is on ice. I'm gonna show you that there _is_ some style around here." He swung himself out of bed, got busy with the offerings out of his refrigerator, and returned with a huge tray.

"How did you get all this?" exclaimed Liz, looking over the spread of cold crab on a variety of fresh greens, with bowls of sauces. "And strawberries and chocolate! I'm beginning to think you can do anything."

Red slyly reached down to the floor by the bed, coming up with a bottle of chilled champagne, and a pair of flutes.

"Raided for us by our blue friend," he smiled.

"Let's pig out!" Liz' face shone as she reached for her glass. Red exploded the cork from the bottle. Cats scattered away for dear life.

"Don't worry, kids - I still love you, too," he chuckled, filling the flutes.

They feasted on as much as they could hold. Satisfied and drowsing on Hellboy's chest, Liz whispered, "I've never had a night like this. Thank you! What more could anybody want?"

"You deserve it."

"Mmm," Liz purred luxuriantly. He felt her lips at his cheekbone, nuzzling. "Heavy?"

"Kidding?" He flexed the considerable muscle mass of his torso, bouncing her up a bit.

Hellboy felt his mate's head drop more heavily onto his shoulder. Whatever were the cares of the past days, all vanished as he reached to grasp the bedsheets, drawing them up to cover her back, cuddling her close.

Through a delicious fog of dozing, Liz asked one more thing. "Happy?"

He closed his golden eyes, breathed a contented sigh. "Blissed out, Babe..."

...

She woke hours later to a cherished feverish ache inside, to remind that he'd been there. They murmured together to set their plans, she nestling her back against the comfortable heat of his chest, his tail curled around her waist.

Collecting her scattered clothing, Red stopped to watch Liz brush her hair and glide on her lip gloss while she regarded him with a charming tilt of her head - some of those 'girl things' that he welcomed to his world. Feeling so fine as they shared a parting kiss, he unlocked his vault door. Liz had to leave him to go about her own business – for a little while.

Hellboy and Liz had no actual need to keep their new intimate relationship secret. Soon enough, they would become objects of too much curiosity, and Tom Manning would voice his opinion to Washington, but nobody and nothing was going to mess with them. Hellboy could do without that noise right now. As undomesticated as he was, Red cleared away evidence of the specially acquired dinner, feeding leftover chunks of seafood to his feline pets.

...

"John!" hailed Liz, nearing her quarters, "Are you spending your off-duty hours patrolling the halls? It's four in the morning!"

John Myers' face lit up as he continued his walk toward her. "I tried your room," he said brightly, "Where have you been?"

Liz gave him her enigmatic non-expression. "What is it?"

"Can we sit for a little while? Talk?" His eyes looked pleading and admiring all at once. Not so long before, he'd replayed dream images of Liz with her flowing hair and slim figure dressed in her favoured close-fitting black garments, just as she appeared now. And of course, his imaginings had gone further...

"Not now," she dismissed, as kindly as possible, "Things to do, sorry." She'd hoped that Myers had given up on his past attempts to court her. He had certainly been present to witness her choice. And she, too, wanted her own mind free of interference. "How about day after tomorrow?" she offered. She still owed him a colleague's respect. He signalled 'okay', as he turned to walk away, obviously disappointed.

Liz arrived at her room. Pushing open the door, she looked down to see a folded piece of paper on the floor. Quaint. A note. Scanning it, she read the salutation, 'Please, Liz', and the signature of John, at the end. Not needing to know the content, she held the paper between her fingers and incinerated it with a tiny flame. Now, she wanted only a long, hot soak in her tub, and as a freshly mated woman, to celebrate alone with her thoughts of Red.


	2. Chapter 2 John Got Game

Much later at his enforced appointed time, John Myers arrived at Hellboy's room, pushing the usual loaded meal cart through the vault door. His pointed look of curiosity went unnoticed by the resident demon. Myers turned to the task of transferring the filled bowls and trays to a table.

"What's going on with you?" Myers finally asked. "If you're sick, the director needs to know."

"I'm not sick, Myers."

"But you haven't been eating-"

"Not here," said Hellboy. "I can go where everybody else eats, if I want to. Now, I'm in the mood for room service."

"I guessed you weren't alone last night," suggested Myers, a little too cheerfully, "You sounded like a dog with a bone!"

Hellboy's eyes narrowed dangerously, then he stalked a few steps away before blading his body to level a seething glare. "This is mine!" he growled, his tail lashing with fury. "It doesn't get kicked around the Bureau!"

John Myers went pale, instantly feeling trapped by a red panther about to spring. Hellboy, so righteously angered, was truly terrifying. Myers threw up his hands, a surrender. "Never! No disrespect, Red!" he hastened to placate the demon. He too belatedly realized that he had not been granted any degree of the intimate status that would allow him to safely remark on Red's union with Liz, especially since he'd been the one attempting to come between them. Frankly, he couldn't imagine Red's closest friend, Abe Sapien, ever speaking out of line.

Myers tried not to stammer, "I won't be here much longer."

Hellboy's riled posture eased somewhat. "Going away?" he asked, ever so softly.

"Transferred – to Antarctica," Myers informed, then being aware of how foolhardy it might be, more boldly went on, "Do you know something about that?"

The demon stepped closer. "Maybe. I reported every hero move you pulled in Moscow. Glowed all over you. You're just way too good for us." He turned away again. "Anyway, I don't control these things."

Myers lowered himself to the couch, staring down at his clasped hands. "I was angry about it, but I'm not now." The tension in the atmosphere wound down noticeably. He looked up at Red holding a cigar to his lips, just listening. "Nothing ties me here," continued the young agent, "or anywhere. I've been doing skype sessions with a team girl – and now, I can't wait to get there."

"That's good...good," Red approved. "And listen," he moved forward to settle into his own custom-sized chair, "what you did for us, it was huge – planet Earth huge. I won't forget. You've got all my admiration, kid."

A reminiscent wince twitched Myers' cheek. "Everything about Moscow was huge, but I'll accept only my share of the credit. I couldn't forget it if I tried." He skimmed fingers over his face, where healing of his cuts and bruises was progressing well.

"We're both a little less pretty, right?" teased Hellboy. "I hope your girl likes scars."

John Myers smiled and nodded, as her image formed in his mind.

"Hey..." Red continued, "Here's why I was tearing into you earlier. You were never part of it, but I've been a long time listening to the way a lot of the guys here talk about women, since before you were born, and I won't let any jag-off say trash about Liz."

Myers began to feel more remorseful for having tried to win Liz away from her most formidable suitor. He, as a human, could have many paths to love, unlike Hellboy, who had long ago set his heart on pyrokinetic Liz and no other. The half-demon so completely owned his solitary and uniquely placed position, decades of history – and no one could dispute, his male supremacy. But as the late Professor Bruttenholm had given charge to John Myers to help Hellboy to 'become a man', the young agent had agonized over a solution to the assignment. The trust in him was not misplaced when he proved his courage in facing down the lethal and ruthless Anung un Rama, with his appeal to the humanity he knew to be within. Letting down the professor, to say nothing of all mankind, was unthinkable. And he'd seen that the man in Hellboy loved a woman who now loved him back. He conceded that he'd never had a real chance to take her from him.

Watching Red lift his chin to blow a lazy plume of smoke toward the ceiling, Myers had the distinct uneasy feeling that he was just a barely-welcome visitor to the cave of the alpha wolf. No matter how great was their collective success in containing the Seven Gods of Chaos - on the home front, it was the number Three that Hellboy could not tolerate or allow.

It hadn't escaped the notice of senior agents in Hellboy's personal squad, that shortly after Myers' arrival, he was maneuvering to get closer to Liz. Soon enough, he learned with dismay that a group of personnel had started a pool, to wager on the day and time that Hellboy would twist off Myers' head. Being considered an inconvenience, a threat, to someone as physically overwhelming as Red, conferred upon Myers a notoriety he'd never wanted to earn within the Bureau. But extending due respect to all concerned, he remained principled, endured the ominous teasing and never spoke of them.

With time and distance, Myers believed, Hellboy would relax his territorial imperative. At some future date, he knew he would win his own love, and the four together might develop a warmer association. He would never know anyone like them again. Sharing the dangers of Rasputin's mausoleum together had transformed each of their lives beyond what any could have imagined. Myers knew he had been invested with a steel and an insight that he had not possessed before.

Myers stood up and buttoned his suit jacket, smoothed his tie. "Red, for the time that I have left here – if you want privacy, just let me know, and you've got it."

Hellboy made his agreeable approach. Myers mentally readied his shoulder for a congenial but rattling thump of Red's stone hand. It didn't happen.

"Then I won't be seeing you until this time tomorrow," Red grinned. "Myers, you're okay."


	3. Chapter 3 John's Party

Saying goodbye to John Myers wasn't an overly sentimental affair. He'd been a stateside B.P.R.D. member for such a short number of weeks, that his only local history, albeit very intense, had been made at the side of Hellboy and Liz Sherman.

The administration had planned a fitting send-off for him, and it was being well attended. There weren't very many happy occasions to be celebrated at the Bureau – and lately, the members had been hit hard. The murder of Hellboy's cherished father, Professor Bruttenholm, was an open wound to many more than his half-demon son. Agent Lime's memorial had been held soon after, the only operative to meet his death on the Moscow mission.

John, the center of attention in the converted conference room, uncomfortably looked down into his liquor glass as the groups of agents approached to shake his hand, offer congratulations, and slap his back. He hardly knew them, most of them being much older than he, and he suffered their boisterous attentions with good grace. He noted that his best acquaintances had slipped into the room and were exchanging greetings with their long-time colleagues. John did his best to peer through the jostling bodies to see that Liz – pretty Liz, was quite plastered to Hellboy's side. After a few minutes, she stretched up to speak to him, and Red leaned down to hear her. It was nearly time to face the director's table for the inevitable speeches. Liz walked toward John. Red threw him an unconcerned glance and continued a lively exchange with several agents. There was no secret fond look for him as she stopped in front of John and crossed her arms.

"I'm hoping you'll find it at least, agreeable," she told him.

"I'll make the best of it." Then with a small frown, John inclined his head toward her. "Does he know?"

"Don't talk crazy," was her scolding whisper.

"Sorry, I should have known," he admitted.

It had been so many days ago, that Liz had met John for the talk he wanted. Astonishingly, John had made his last-ditch effort to ask her to accompany him to his transfer destination. She'd given him no hope that it could happen.

"Hellboy's lost so much." he had said, "I think you're just feeling sorry for him."

But her look, tinged with pity, was for John that day. "You couldn't be more wrong," she had answered, "and the more you say, the worse you sound. I'm going now. No hard feelings."

Even now, Liz was maintaining proper cool distance. In front of all these people, her body language would reflect her respect for her man, Hellboy. Giving John a little nod, she turned away.

So the party swung into higher gear as the cocktail hour extended up to the speechifying. Tom Manning fumbled with his notes of rehearsed remarks and jokes. He held forth on John's high value for the short time he'd been an agent, how he'd be missed. Manning presented John with an award for bravery. The photo of himself next to Manning was to be his keepsake. It certainly had nowhere to be published.

Then, Hellboy was called upon to speak. Standing up without moving from his place, he looked over at the guest of honour. Some wag from the floor predictably chuckled, "Uh-oh!"

"We should all be envying Boy Scout," Red began. "He's gonna get rich on his isolation pay."

Remarks of sarcastic agreement rumbled among the agents.

"We're having an advance look at what he's taking with him," he continued, raising his hand.

At the signal, a man approached the head table, presenting John with a heavy arctic-weight jacket. He was followed by others, one by one, each bringing another article to the table. Soon, John was completely hidden behind the stacked-up coveralls, sleeping bag, thermal underwear, thick sweaters, fur hood, heavy-duty balaclava and boots for a frigid climate.

Appreciative laughter rippled through the crowd. Hellboy sauntered his way to the head table, and getting behind John, hauled him straight up out of his chair and stood him on it. John couldn't mistake the message of that gesture, and neither did anyone watching. He had been handled with the merest touch of Hellboy's strength, lifted like a puppy.

"Boy Scout," Red announced, "the stage is yours, kid."

Standing high up, John waited for his blush to cool. He placed his hands on the piled clothing.

"Uh, thanks for this," he started. From behind the stack, an invisible Manning handed up a microphone. "I wish I'd had the chance to know more of you better. There's no place like this in the world. It sure shows you what you're made of – and I think I'm more than when I started out, all green. I had a lot thrown at me from Day One," and he glanced over at Hellboy, "and I'm glad the Prof wouldn't let me give up. Then it became a whole lot more, but I had the best to help me through it." The expression Liz turned on him, told him that he was doing well.

"And I'm ready to be more than I am now."

He triggered the optimum moment for applause, hollers and whistles, and someone soon sent him a tray of drinks. John got down from his chair and noticed Hellboy had come up. Indicating the tray, he invited, "Have one."

"No, thanks," Red smiled. "I'm not so much into that now. I'm more than I was, too."

"What are they trying to do to me, Red?" John chuckled. "I wouldn't drink this much in a month."

"They like you, but hangover misery loves company."

"I think I'll just graze, watch and mingle. Manning approved this?"

"Yeah," Red shrugged, "I let him know that the guys deserved to blow off steam."

It was only right for Red and Liz to hang with John at his party, since he scarcely knew anyone else. And though the limits had been made clear to him, John felt a comfort and protection in their company that banished his expected awkwardness at this occasion.

"This gal who's waiting for you," Hellboy asked casually, "what's her name?"

"Um – Sherry." His blush returned.

Liz lowered her lashes. John was certain he knew the thought behind her cryptic little smile. "Guys are all the same."

John had to grudgingly admire how smoothly Red had planted that nugget. He guessed he'd deserved that.

Now in his element of humour, Hellboy called the rest of the room to attention.

"Boy Scout's gonna model all his new gear!"

John froze at the roar of dozens of tipsy agents, pounding their tables and loudly chanting his name. Red grabbed the arctic coveralls and boots, dropping them into John's lap. John obligingly struggled into the thick garment, and was barely able to sit to pull on the tall, heavy boots. Finally arrayed in the face covering, dark eye protection and weighty parka with the hood pulled over the fur hat, John became keenly aware that he couldn't prevent himself from toppling over like timber. Barely able to hear the snorting laughter from the tables, John swayed on his thick-booted feet and was snatched from disaster by Hellboy's supporting hand.

"Takes some getting used to," laughed Red. "Your snowshoes and mittens are coming tomorrow."

"Too hot, too hot," mumbled John, unable to bend his arms.

"Here to help," Hellboy declared, uncovering the young agent's head and face. John laughed at himself heartily, realizing that his acceptance by the room was becoming assured. And all he'd had to do was to let himself be ridiculous.

At an appropriate late hour, the three said their good nights to the hard partiers and headed to their quarters. Now it was okay to have a nightcap together. John walked behind the couple. Hellboy was so big that only one other could occupy the corridor beside him, even as close as they were with their arms around each other. Invited, John parked himself in an armchair and poured a drink from a selection of bottles.

"The night went well," John sighed, leaning back, "I was worried."

"You're about the most serious young guy I ever met," Red told him.

"So, how did it feel to let your hair down?" asked Liz.

"Weird. Good. But I couldn't do it by myself."

"Keep it up," she suggested. "You'll have more fun. And so will Sherry."

John nodded. He'd been freed up from cringing about that, too.

He was having a pretty good time in their company. Red was naturally comical, and he knew this unique world of the Bureau. During conversation, John also kept his radar up for signs – like when Liz placed her legs to rest across Hellboy's lap, and he absently began stroking her knee.

"Uh, I should go, folks," he said, standing. "See you-"

"Wait!" Liz interrupted, hopping off the couch and going to a wall shelf. She returned with two gift-wrapped boxes. "This one is yours," she specified, "and this one is for Sherry."

"Thanks!" he exclaimed, stepping forward to shake Red's hand. "Thanks!" Since Liz hadn't moved in for a hug, John did the unnatural thing and shook her hand, too, under Red's watchful eye.

Happily enough, John Myers strolled the corridor to his own bed, half singing, "Sherry, Sherry, Sherry!"

First thing in the morning, Hellboy appeared at Tom Manning's office. Without giving the director a chance to speak, he insisted, "I want first approval of whoever's in line to replace Myers."

"Why is that so important?" Manning wanted to know.

"He'll be coming to our room six times a day."

"Yes."

"It's the easiest thing I ever asked for," reasoned Hellboy. "And I'll be doing the guy a favour. Job security."

"How's that?"

"I want somebody who looks like you." Hellboy got on a roll. "Your age, no hair, flabby gut, maybe no teeth. No more pretty boys!"


	4. Chapter 4 Educating Red

**A/N: Hellboy, as a teen and young adult, had held little to no hope of experiencing the depth of love that could come his way – until Liz. A one-shot type chapter addition. Reviews are very appreciated!**

**...**

**Hellboy's POV:**

When I was, let's see - maybe eighteen, I was pretty bummed out having to listen to Pop again on the subject of women. More to the point, a woman for _me._ I love Pop, and he must have known something about the way I'm feeling, sometime in his younger life. I can't ask him about that. He's never had a lady around, not while I've been with him. He buried that part of his life under a pile of research, and books. I hope he didn't do it because of me. I would have learned from that, seeing him happy with someone of his own. Maybe she could have accepted that Pop was raising me, been sort of a mother. No point in thinking about missing that. Maybe she would have wanted me to go away. Do I want to know that he stayed alone just to give me a life?

But in the here and now, Pop sticks with his old instructions, nothing I can live with, anymore. Sure, I treat all women with respect, like he taught me, and the same goes for anybody else who deserves it. Maybe I'm not always the best judge of that. I hardly ever hold back, when it comes to jerks. But it can't be the way Pop wants me to accept. Dammit, (sorry, Sir) it's a long, long life sentence.

The lecture was the same as what he gave me after I was trained and ready to go to work. How was anybody, including me, going to know how I might react to my kid impulses? Pop was afraid that I might take it to the limit, get myself in real trouble with the law. And my limits can go pretty far, maybe out of sight. Exact same reason the B.P.R.D. lets me loose to smash down whatever the paranormal regions throw at me. I'm the only one who can do it. Too much of an only one, in other ways.

...

Pop would have been really pissed if he'd got wind of how some older agents had me under their wing, were teaching me everything he wanted to avoid. It wasn't about if they were right or wrong. It was the late 1950's, and they were pulling me into their world, and whatever they told me, there was no way I'd pass it by him to ask if it was real and true.

Like when a team of us were on a flight to some mission, I listened, but I didn't ask any questions. Some of the guys weren't short on complaints about their women, even insulting. I was most probably never going to meet those women, but was this the way their guys were supposed to talk about them? I couldn't see that being cool for me to do anytime, if I had a girl. Then I heard some bragging, yeah, on cheating, and the details, descriptions of lady parts and how they slobbered all over them. When it got all around the circle, they looked at me. I was a lot bigger than all of them, so I guess they mostly forgot. Except Cooper, who hollered out, "You perverts, give your head a shake! Red's only fourteen!" Good save. I had nothing to say, and I wasn't going to.

It wasn't like they helped a damned thing when it came to how I was feeling. Just that it happened to all of them, too, and they understood me – that was something. Seems that all Pop ever repeated to me for a lot of years was, "Don't. Never." He couldn't stop me from getting my own ideas. I still knew when to be good. I could look at one of our nurses when she walked by me, and think of her putting her soft hands on me. Didn't show it, though. No point in thinking about touching and being touched. But she was in my dreams. Wet dreams. Not that I ever asked, but I heard somebody say it once, and put it together. I listened. I learned stuff, a little at a time.

And I worked out. Man, did I work out! Snotty, I guess, to keep going when Pop showed up to try to talk me into slowing down. 'Neurotic sublimation', he said to me. I didn't even stop to ask him what that meant. If Pop thought I was getting too ripped and bulky for my age, tough! He wasn't taking that away from me, too. And the guys hanging around the weight stations understood about that.

...

I didn't mind that the guys kind of made me their project. One night, they snuck me out to a stag party in the hangar. Now that I think about it, my friends were doing me a back-handed favour. Not because there was a lot of booze and smoke around. I liked to drink a little, and I grabbed a cigar whenever I could get one. So we talked shop and some trash, got a little or a lot drunk, and had lots of laughs, like always.

Then Eldridge set up a projector and pulled down a rolled-up white screen, and everybody dragged their chairs up close, bugging Eldridge to get the reel started. I guess it was supposed to be more of my education, because Sanger beside me gave me a funny look, told me to pay attention, and punched my arm.

They were porn movies, all right – maybe ten in a row, but short, in black and white, some with no sound, and lousy focus. I listened to how everybody reacted with making razz and a lot of pretend puking, but I was quiet. I knew better, in case I looked stupid. It was amateur night – every poke looked sad and ugly, and the garbage dog-style action made me sorry for all those women backed up on their knees.

Finally, it was all shut down. I hoped for nothing, but no such luck.

Eldridge was grinning straight at me, along with everybody else.

"Well, young Red, did you learn something?"

I was the only damned virgin in the house. I took a couple of seconds to flick ashes off my cigar.

"Did you see me taking notes? If that's what they are, those actors are really out of shape," I said, "and it looks dumb that the guy in all of them, takes off everything but his socks and his watch."

I didn't believe it ever had to be like that, cheap and sleazy. There had to be a lot better to being with a woman. I did learn a lot that night.

I went to my room, laid down, and made my own movie. I had to close my eyes to bring her.

First, she had a great face and long hair. Her skin was red like mine, then changed through every colour, same as her hair. She had intelligent eyes that looked right at me, not afraid, not shocked. She smiled like an angel and touched my mouth with those lips. And that was something good. She wanted to lie skin to skin with me, all the way down. My stone arm was okay to her, so I hugged her real gentle, protective-like. I must have been gone enough to talk to myself, but I was saying it to her.

"Stay. Please stay."

And she answered me, all warm and happy, "Red, I'm here. Only for you. Kiss me."

I knew damned well that I had something better to give, nothing like I'd seen in those lousy movies. She was everything good. And my imagination kept going until I went volcano.

The downer was opening my eyes.

...

It's not great to remember, but it happened. I was maybe twenty, and a continent away from home, so nobody would care that I took up an offer that chased me hard for a whole hour. She was a giant bodybuilder woman. She got a room and brought her 'roided girlfriend. Looked like twins. I was jaded enough to figure that they only wanted to see what I felt like, or maybe had a bet going. It was just plain better than nothing, and then I was gone.

...

After I'd lived long enough to get old and smarter, and resigned to being alone, I fell hard for Liz Sherman. And I gave up the strain of trying to hide it. It felt hopeless, anyway. She was a mixed-up kid, running from herself and the Bureau and returning so many times, I never knew where in the world she would end up. Maybe both of us really grew up at the same time, and when I got the chance, I finally knew the right thing to say to her. And she came to me, to stay.

I waited a long time to give her the best of what I learned. If it's not enough, I'll try harder.

I'll always remember the old agents for making me search for what's real and true.

...

**Liz' POV:**

Red really meant it last night, asking me to get him down off the ceiling. Considering his way of giving compliments, that one was pretty high praise. We make love to each other all the time. It's one thing he just won't take for granted, because most of his life was a desert, when it came to that. He was so willing to be taught what pleased me, and never once asked how I learned any of it. Or for how I pleased him. A smart woman knows that her man really doesn't want that information. He should know that, too.

It feels right to make him happy, feels good that just my hand on his face can begin to smooth over a nasty day. My tough guy needs me to hold him when he comes home, same as I need him. His arms are the safest place in my world, where I can listen to his heart, and hear that voice, just for me, through his chest. Up close, he talks in his low purr. He gets a calm energy from kissing me, he says, until we take it to bed. He needs me to love touching him. Red is so very warm to lie down with, so exciting and satisfying to feel and kiss all over. When he looks at me a certain way, or grabs me tight, I can feel him thinking how he might never have had this. I have the Red who was ready to nest. And what he gives back, is just as one of a kind as he.

He lived a long time without any source of true comfort and empathy, and I don't count the exclusively male agents of his early BPRD years. They wouldn't have been long on those qualities, through the dictates of the times. I'm glad Red didn't absorb the existing double standard when it came to females. But I can't blame him for valuing that attachment. When I became an orphan, I needed somebody, too.

I really believe that the prospect of never being touched, loved or wanted can ultimately crush down a human spirit, and it had to be true for Red. It's the next thing to losing all hope. Being Hellboy would have made him look like nothing but a brute fighter who needed only to win.

So few people living around Red for the past fifty years, had given much thought that such a physical rock could want a tender relationship with a mate. And those who did, decided that it had to be left entirely to him. How could any of them help, really? There was nobody else like Red, except where he came from...not that, never!

When we were hanging out a lot together, just as friends, I was too much of a kid to notice. But now I know how Red was mature enough then, to hide his loneliness from me. I still looked for his company when I was older, and more like a woman, I began to read how much he needed to be wanted. So did I, but I was too afraid then, to cross the line and let our friendship get weird. After just a little while watching TV at his side, I would find that I had to look up at him, and his eyes warmed on me like he was seeing something precious. I must have given him so many mixed messages in those years, yanked his heart around, and hurt him pretty often, without meaning to. Whenever I turned up at his vault door, he let his gruff shell fall away, and I thought he would always be there for me, no matter what I did. I let him wait and wait, and after all, he never did give up on me.

When we lost ourselves and each other to dark powers, Red fought for our way back. And he was the only one who could. Making a life together, now – I won't let myself think of what could get in our way. The love, the desire, everything we need, is all here. We take it everywhere we go. He'll be an 'only one' forever, but until then, he's mine.

Red can be the biggest teddy bear, and the biggest pain in the ass, but for me, his heart is bigger than all of that. I've never had anything as strong as loving him.


End file.
